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Blind Spot 2003 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Four years after Episode IV – A New Hope
Tunnil Fulle swung around at speed, suddenly aware that
there was figure standing just to his left. He tensed; a little shocked at
the sudden appearance and the fact that he reacted to it with such panic. “Easy, Tun,” Grin held up his hands in mock surrender. “I give
up!” There was the slightest of pauses and Fulle let his huge
T-shaped head droop slightly, a small smile escaping his hard features. “Sorry, Grin, you
just took me a bit by surprise, is all.” Grin smiled his lipless smile and followed Tunnil’s gaze, looking out over the bay of Amagad from
the roof of the Internal Traffic Control building. The moons reflected off
the inky black surface of the water, the lights of the busy city on the
opposite side of the bay winking and streaking through the waves. The
silhouetted towers of Amagads capital city glowed with light, hundreds of
pinpoints of window light denoting an existence. Vehicles flew over and around
the buildings. “Strange to see
you at such a high position without your rifle,” Grin said with a nudge and a
grin. His clothing, rags and patchwork clothing, ruffled in the wind and
Tunnil turned up his nose at the smell that emanated from him but said
nothing. “What are you
doing here, Grin?” Tunnil asked with a sideways look. “Got some information
for me?” “Nah, I heard
that you came up here sometimes to practice shooting at targets on the water.
Fancied seeing you shoot.” Tunnil smiled. “Not tonight.” “Why not?” There was a long pause as Tunnil chose his words. He
looked down at his feet and kicked a piece of debris off the roof and watched
it sail into the darkness of the port below. “Not in the
mood.” “Not in the
mood?” Grin guffawed. “Setnin’s most skilled marksman not in the mood to show
off his prowess, his gift, to the adoring public?” “Most people who
see me shoot die straight after I’ve pulled the trigger,” Tunnil said with a
down turned face. He toyed with another piece of garbage with his foot before
sending after the first. With a sigh he walked to the very edge of the roof
and looked down at the port below, watched as a starship slowly lifted off
from a landing bay and ascended past them, washing them with heat and light.
Grin rubbed a hand against his scaly skin as the vessel passed. “There goes
Goah,” he said matter of factly. “He’s a good shot,
too, isn’t he?” “Not as good as
me.” “That’s not what
I meant.” Somewhere in the maze of streets of Amagad city a blaster
shot echoed, followed by two more and then the sound of sirens. “What’s going
on, Tun?” Grin asked as Galletti’s ship picked up
speed and rose higher, into the clouds. They both watched it turn the
suspended moisture into a glowing cotton ball before a brighter light and a boom
denoted he had achieved escape velocity. “I was on Yuma
yesterday,” Tunnil said. “Scare shot for Glann, just a wound on a sugar
peddler to warn him off the Wennicas run.” “And?” A small Skyhopper shot past, lights blinking as it dipped
and headed into the buildings surrounding the Internal Traffic Control
building. A dish mounted with dozens of others on the roof whirred as it
turned and tracked the vehicle. Tunnil found the next two words difficult, but he managed
to force them out. “I missed.” Then total silence, as if the city and the sky had heard Tunnil’s words and had become quiet in shock at his
revelation. After a moment, the noise level returned to normal. Two
freighters approached the same docking bay and jockeyed for the landing
privileges like two great wild beasts snapping at each other over a kill.
Grin watched them with a straight face; usually, the sight would have been
humorous, but he was finding it difficult to decide what to say next. He settled on, “Well… it’s not the end of the galaxy.” Tunnil
turned to face him as one of the freighters broke off the argument and went
back into a holding pattern. “I never miss,
Grin.” “Well… you did.
Do you know what happened?” “I lined up the
shot. I was just shy of a kilometre out, no adverse weather conditions,
perfect light. Aimed for his shoulder. He was even dozing on the upper hull
of his ship as he waited for a drop-off. He wasn’t moving. I lined up, pulled
he trigger on the exhale, and I missed. Even Vod
could have made that shot.” “Vod’s blind’” “I know.” “Tunnil, you’re
going to have your off days, I mean, you’re not a super being, you’re not
perfect, no-one is…” “I’m going
blind, Grin.” “Don’t be so
hard on yourself…” “No, I mean it,
I’m going blind. I’ve been checked out. My optic nerves are shot, especially
in my left eye. I can hardly see freck-all out of it.” Grin opened his mouth to speak but Tunnil just let the
words stream out. “The most
important things in my life, my eyes. My wonderful, far-seeing crystal-clear
eyes. Everything my whole life is based upon, everything my skill and my
profession and my passion is centred about. The things I need. I have
trained, practiced, honed every nuance of the shoot, every facet of the
sighting, the feel of the rifle, the positioning, the ranging and cover and
weather, the re-location protocol, everything. All of this relies on my eyes.
My beautiful, crisp-clear eyes.” Grin’s life was based about two things; information
brokering and information collection. He could understand something of what
Tunnil was feeling; after all, if all his contacts suddenly decided to severe
ties with him, if the trust people had in his words was suddenly destroyed,
he would lose everything. Still, he had his network, so it was easy for him
think that way. Tunnil was losing his skill for real. Only he knew the pain
of that kind of loss. “You could get
implants, cybernetic implants.” “The visual data
transfer delay would throw me off. I won’t have perfect vision if I have new
eyes vat-grown. I’ve thought of it all before, Grin. I’ve kind of planned for
this moment.” “Forever the
pessimist,” Grin said with a small laugh, hoping the moment of levity would
bring Tunnil back from his sadness, at least just a little. He was pleased
when Tunnil laughed also. “With good
reason, it would seem,” Tunnil said, stepping back from the edge of the
building and looking back over the city. A large vessel slowly descended
behind the tall gravestone-like towers, illuminating the lower levels of the
shoddily patched constructs with its thrusters exhaust. Slowly, Tunnil turned
his head to follow the coastline, all the way up to where Glann Cipple’s
fortress was stationed on the highest point of the bay, looking down on the
run-down city. “Which means he
has no use for me, now,” Tunnil said quietly, although Grin heard the words
and couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “You know a lot
about his inner workings,” Grin said. “And if I don’t
work for him, I’m a variable in his empire. I’m a dead being.” “You could run,”
Grin offered. Tunnil laughed. “Run where?
Where can I go so that the far-reaching hand of the Cipple organisation can’t
find me? I’ll spend the last hundred years of my life curled up in an
asteroid in the back-end of space, licking mould from the rocks to live. The
once great Tunnil Fulle reduced from the best sniper the sector has ever seen
to a madman scared of his own shadow. They’ll come for me. Feese, Goah,
perhaps all of them. They’ll find me and they’ll kill me.” “Perhaps Glann
can find you another role…” “Like what?”
Tunnil found his voice rising. “I don’t damn
well know!” Grin snapped. “This isn’t you, Tunnil! I don’t know what
to say, how to act. You tell me you’re going blind, and, yeah, that’s real
bad, but your life is not over. Sniping and shooting and range finding
is not the be-all and end-all of your existence, surely! Yeah, the implants
will suck, but at least you’ll still be able to function. Honestly, the way
you’re carrying on it’s as if you’ll be spending the rest of your life in a
cave with dirty bandages wrapped around your eyes, crying for the good old
days. Tun, that’s not you. You’ve always been on
top of your game, ready for the next challenge. You’ve always been the best.” “Yeah, the best
shot…” “Killing people at long range and then skulking away is
not a life!” Grin roared. Tunnil took a step back, simply amazed at Grin’s anger
and volume. He looked down on the smaller being, saw the fire in his eyes, saw the grim set of his jaw. At first he was ready to
pounce, verbally and physically, on the being that had, in one sentence,
intoned that his life had been a waste of time. But, somewhere deep down where his rational mind feared
to tread, he knew Grin was right. He had become a sniper to survive. To
survive the clan wars on Entall. To survive the inquisition ‘droids where he
grew up on Chinngard. To survive the killers and the murderers and all the
beings of lesser repute he mixed. Beings he mixed with. He hadn’t been forced to join
Cipple’s ranks; he did because he wanted to. He was
a shooter, a smoker, a sniper, a beam jockey. He was a damn good shot with a
skill very few could even understand, let alone equal. He had a skill with a
rifle, an understanding of it’s form and function,
that would make normal-mined people furrow their brows in confusion, rub
their chins in suspicion. He was a marksman. How could he turn his back on his
skill, run like a frightened Womp rat, hide like a coward? He still had some sight left in him.
Some fight. And he was damned if he was going to fold like loser! “I need a job,”
Tunnil said quickly, turning to Grin. “Anything.” “Jan’s
recruiting for a job on Alorea, high risk, high payment,” Grin said quickly,
as if expecting the question. “Target?” “Targets,
plural. Ferrerrean Warriors. Like I said – high
risk. There’s a good chance you won’t…” “I don’t care.
If I’m going out of this game, I’m going out like I came into it. With a
fight. Where’s Jan?” “Bay Twelve.” Without another word Tunnil walked with long, determined
strides to the roof access portal, but as he approached it, he slowed down
and stopped. At first, Grin thought he had changed his mind, but slowly,
Tunnil turned to face him. “You knew, didn’t
you?” He said knowingly. “Knew?” “About my eyes.” Grin shrugged. “Maybe”. “You knew I
wouldn’t give up without a fight, that I’d want to go out struggling, kicking
and screaming, that Glann would have me killed and that… well, that would
just suck for someone like me.” “Maybe. That, and Jan’s having difficulty recruiting for the
Alorean job, because of the Ferrereans. Let’s face it; you wouldn’t have gone
on a high risk job, Tunnil, not like that.” Tunnil slowly approached him. “So you get me riled up,
ready to fight for anything, just so Jan has another body on his suicide
mission?” No answer. “You son of a
bitch.” Grin smiled. “Hey, I bet you
never saw that coming.” Blind Spot 2003 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Four
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Set
directly before the Ferrerean Warriors story, this sees Tunnil Fulle and Grin
discussing Fulle’s failing eyesight. A debilitating affliction for a sniper,
this is a genuinely touching study in the plight of this popular Setnin character, and a look into how his motivations inform his actions. Cast of Characters
Grin Tunnil
Fulle |